


Kiss Me Hard Before You Go

by binni



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: 8059, M/M, five times this one time that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:57:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binni/pseuds/binni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Gokudera didn't kiss Yamamoto goodbye, and the time he finally fucking did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Me Hard Before You Go

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick idea that popped into my head when I was listening to the radio. The title's based from a line in Lana Del Ray's Summertime Sadness, though not from the song itself. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it!

**i.**

  
At this time, their relationship is vaguely new. If it can even be called that. (It's really nothing.) Yamamoto's really not sure what they are, or where they stand—even what Gokudera thinks of him now. All he knows is that there's something awkward between them that he is fairly certain wasn't there before. He can't pinpoint when it happened; he can't say what caused it. He can only say that there's something there that wasn't there before. It's clear when he looks – even glances – into Gokudera's eyes. 

And he's pretty sure Gokudera notices it too, because Gokudera seems almost hesitant to go on this mission, and Gokudera's never hesitant to accomplish a mission. 

Eventually, Yamamoto can't take it anymore, and he reverts back into what he knows is safe. He smiles wide, and waves. 

"Good luck, yeah?"

"Heh," Gokudera scoffs. "Like I need luck for something like this."

Gokudera's off before Yamamoto can say anything else, and the last glimpse he gets of Gokudera is the flash of a sneaker as he disappears through Hatch A. Yamamoto grins a shaky grin and forces himself to continue on with Situation Normal.

**ii.**

This time they're both a little bit older. Yamamoto's just turned 20, and he figured out a while ago just what exactly it was setting him off around Gokudera. He knows Gokudera's figured it out, too, but he also knows that Gokudera is likely still trying to ignore it, or deny it. It's lead to Gokudera being even shorter with Yamamoto than usual, but Yamamoto's bound and determined to get something out of him. It almost doesn't matter if it's making Gokudera accept whatever-it-is, just so long as he actually starts acknowledging Yamamoto a little more.

So Yamamoto stares at Gokudera's back. The suit jacket is brand new, his slacks are freshly pressed with perfect creases, and the Oxfords reflect the light in the storeroom just as brilliantly as his new earcuffs. Gokudera's stocking up on his dynamite, and grabs a few cat treats for Uri later. 

"Are you just gonna keep being a total creep, or are you actually going to help the Tenth out while I'm gone?"

"Haha," Yamamoto tries. "Sorry, sorry, I just wanted to wish you luck."

Gokudera still hasn't turned around as he continues to speak. "What did I tell you last time you tried wishing me luck? Idiot."

"Doesn't hurt!" Yamamoto smiles. "I just want you to come back safe."

Gokudera hesitates now – again – and snaps his last collection of TNT onto his belt. "Please," he says, his tone lazy. "I'm the Tenth's Right Hand. I have priorities, you know."

It's then that Gokudera turns around and meets Yamamoto's eyes. It's clear that Gokudera's still suppressing it, but there's a hint of something else that Yamamoto just can't place. What he does know is that what he sees isn't bad, it's actually hopeful, and Yamamoto nods his head. He has a feeling that expression is just for him, and even if it's not, then he can at least pretend for now.

"Of course," he concedes. "We'll be here, waiting."

**iii.**

Now it's Yamamoto's turn for a solo mission, and he's completely lying when he says he's perfectly fine. It's not because one string of his shoelaces is longer than another, or that he buttoned one of his cuffs incorrectly. It's not even the tie that Gokudera's fixing for him. Shigure Kintoki is strapped securely over his shoulder, so that's definitely not it. 

It's not that it's a solo mission, either; he's had those plenty of times before. It's just that this one, well, he may actually have to turn to drastic measures for this one. And why should he be uneasy about a criminal like this? From this guy's profile, he's almost the worst kind of person. Theft, armed robbery, kidnapping, murder—child murder. Among other terrible things. Yamamoto shouldn't be too worked up about having to resort to … to—

"Eliminating the threat."

Yamamoto gulps. He wishes he could see it like Gokudera does. As far as Yamamoto's concerned, murder is murder. Gokudera doesn't look up from Yamamoto's straightened tie, but his hands move to rest themselves on Yamamoto's chest. They're warm, and the warmth is comforting.

"Don't think of it like killing some defenseless guy. This guy's killed people the least deserving of his treatment, and Lambo, I-Pin, and the girls are prime targets. You need to eliminate the threat."

Yamamoto understands perfectly well just what's at stake and what he has to do. He'll do it, he has to, but it doesn't mean he should want to, or should be comfortable doing so. He keeps quiet, still, knowing that it's odd for him, but right now he just wants to focus on whatever support Gokudera can possibly give him. Even if it's just hands on his chest.

There's no doubt in either of their minds just what's between them, even if it's still unspoken. Neither of them are really holding back anything, it's just…. It never seems to be the right time, and even if Yamamoto would love to give Gokudera a quick kiss goodbye, he wants their first kiss to be under happier circumstances. So instead he carefully grabs Gokudera's hands, and takes them down.

Gokudera may not say it aloud, but his eyes wish Yamamoto all the luck he can possibly get.

**iv.**

Their first kiss is under circumstances dependent on interpretation and opinion. The night Yamamoto returned from that mission three years ago, there may or may not have been some things happening (in desperation; in relief; in fright), involving stumbling into Yamamoto's room at the base, and some rather exceptionally heavy touching. And should that night have happened, both parties may or may not have pushed it all the way back in their memories, an unspoken promise to pretend nothing had happened. 

Just as things are starting to be normal between them, just as things are starting to go somewhere between them, Reborn calls an assignment. 

It's been only a day since Yamamoto's 24th birthday, and yet somehow he and Gokudera are already in Marseille to make way for some kind of Vongola presence in southern France. 

"La Brise de Mer," Gokudera says, handing Yamamoto a manila folder. They're in the back of a luxury sedan. Gokudera quickly hands over another folder – "Imbert." – and then shuffles through a different folder of his own. 

Yamamoto just stares on at the neat, Latin scrawl, only half-paying attention to Gokudera's lecture. Something about godfathers and clothes; Yamamoto knows what he has to do without knowing the intimate history of the area's families.

It's not long before their chauffeur comes to a small stop in front of a dicey bar. (Supposedly where he'll find a key witness to a recent murder and trafficking job.) It's Yamamoto's job to gather what intel he can while Gokudera scouts a few key areas. Yamamoto sets down the folders, opening the door as Gokudera grabs the hem of his suit jacket. The slight tug makes Yamamoto stay still just another moment more, turning to look at Gokudera. He looks a little worried and uncomfortable, staring down in a brief silence.

"These guys can be … pretty deadly," he says. "Just promise you'll be careful."

With a grin, Yamamoto lets his hand take a reassuring grip on Gokudera's. "I'll be okay!" He keeps staring at Gokudera, his eyes ever softening. He can feel himself slowly lean forward, hoping that finally he can share something as simple as a kiss with Gokudera after several years of nothing. He can almost feel Gokudera's light breath brush past his cheek, and he knows he's so close, but then Gokudera does the predictable.

Gokudera quickly releases his hold on the jacket, rips his hand from Yamamoto's, and situates himself back to his original position, looking as if nothing happened. No hint of fright or surprise in his eyes, no pink in his pale cheeks—it's as if the last minute never happened. 

So Yamamoto leaves the car without another word or glance back.

**v.**

"I can't  _fucking_  believe you!" was what started it.

"Gokudera, I--!" were Yamamoto's usual interjections, even to the present of their … discussion.

"Shut up! You give me lectures about my attitude and behavior all the time, and then you go and put fucking everyone in danger!"

Gokudera slams the taxi's door harder than he probably should, but the cabbie doesn't complain after catching the rolled up wad of bills thrown his way. "What the hell were you thinking?!" he continues as Yamamoto himself exits the car. The taxi putters away, not quite able to drown out Yamamoto's voice. 

"I thought I was doing my job!"

" _Your job doesn't entail revealing who you really are or anyone's intimate details_." Gokudera, trying hard to not completely explode, steps towards the hotel. They're in Sicily now, somewhere a little familiar for Gokudera. Meanwhile, Yamamoto can do nothing but stare and continue attempting to defend himself in an area completely unfamiliar and intimidating. He really has no idea how whatever-it-is happened, and truth be told, he's trying really hard not to freak out on himself. Gokudera being upset and angry at him is one thing. Gokudera being furious with him for …  _whatever-this-is!_  … is something else entirely.

"It's not like I volunteered the information!"

"That doesn't matter!" Spinning around sharply on his heel, Gokudera's eyes pierce into Yamamoto's. From there there's more silence; Yamamoto's fairly certain he hears nothing until they're behind the closed door of their hotel room. Gokudera's busy searching through his bags for papers and contacts. Probably to set straight any of Yamamoto's mistakes. He continues mumbling to himself, and Yamamoto's finding it more and more difficult to ignore or explain away as he takes a seat on his bed.

"Gokudera," he begins, tired. "I'm sorry—I don't know how they learned  _anything_." 

"Do you not understand just how much danger we could all be in right now?" 

"We're  _not_ —" 

" _We could be_!" Gokudera snarls back quickly. Before Yamamoto really registers what's going on, Gokudera's hands have a painful grip on his shoulders, and he's glaring at Yamamoto from no more than a foot away. "This isn't the old-time mob, okay, Mugzy's not hand-delivering information anymore. By now, for all we know, they could be organizing something all the way in Japan." 

These are all obvious facts, and how can Gokudera think Yamamoto so ignorant? A baseball freak? Sure. A dumb jock? There are worse things to be called. Or in this case: implied to be. 

"I don't think you understand just how much danger  _you're_  in, Takeshi." Gokudera's eyes are serious, while Yamamoto feels his own twitch a little wider at the use of his name. 

In the time it takes Yamamoto to breathe, it feels forever-long. Gokudera's fingers tighten their grip on Yamamoto's shoulders, and something softens sorrowfully in Gokudera's eyes ( _You never understand—_ ) that makes Yamamoto almost worry. But then, even if it feels like that moment can last for forever, it's gone just as quickly with an exhale. 

"I'll be back later," Gokudera suddenly announces. His hands lift from Yamamoto's shoulders, leaving warm, comfortable patches of fabric in their stead.

**vi.**

"I'll go out through the right."

Yamamoto nods slowly. His grip on Shigure Kintoki is tight, while Jiro and Kojiro wait with him in silence.

"Follow behind after the explosion. Got it?"

"Yeah," Yamamoto answers. He hates it, but it's the only way this will work. Suddenly their success rate is low, and he's fairly certain neither of them are getting out of it without some kind of serious hit. Gokudera sounds like he's trying to convince himself he's confident. Panicked and worried might be more accurate, however. So Yamamoto fires up his Vongola ring just a smidge, and gently rests his hand on Gokudera's in the hope that his flame will help calm Gokudera down. There's no way Gokudera can do his job successfully if he's too preoccupied. 

Gokudera stares down at their hands, turning his own over to grip Yamamoto's. After just a moment, he grips Yamamoto's hand just bit more firmly, and Yamamoto feels a shiver he's not felt before travel up his spine. 

"Yamamoto," he begins. His thumb starts brushing slowly along Yamamoto's hand. He still keeps his gaze away, and his voice trails. Instead of finishing whatever he was going to say, he shuts his mouth. But Yamamoto can see a tinge of nervous pink in Gokudera's cheeks and grins to himself. It's odd—they could, potentially, die in this escape, but they're thinking things unrelated. Yamamoto's not sure if maybe that's just like them, or completely unlike them. But no matter what it is….

Gokudera doesn't need to finish his sentence. Partly because after everything they've been through together, Yamamoto knows what he's trying to say. And partly because Gokudera's lips are too busy against Yamamoto's and are unable to form coherent sounds. 

Their hands are still together, and Yamamoto makes sure to lock their fingers as he kisses Gokudera back. There's just a faint trace of cigarette and gunpowder that Yamamoto can taste (that he'll be talking to Gokudera about later, because there will be a later), and there's an overwhelming sense of relief that finally,  _finally_ , things are out in the open between them. Yamamoto doesn't feel any awkwardness; he just feels accomplished, and happy, and like he can do just about anything in the world. 

So when Gokudera pulls away with a, "Meet me at the car; we're getting out of here," Yamamoto's immediately in Go position.

They make it to Switzerland in less than five hours, but they miss their flight to Japan the next morning.

 

-END-


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